I will never view an evergreen the same way again. The persistent Ivy that relentlessly grows in our backyard, the prickly Holly tree, and even the cedar that generously scatters its branches across our front yard now bear more significance than I had ever imagined. The Ivy was once just a nuisance I would hack away at when it overgrew in the summer, while the Holly and Cedar served as charming winter decor for my mantles. However, they now stand as enduring symbols after the vibrant fall hues fade to gray. Our ancient ancestors valued these rugged plants and trees for a reason – they symbolized life and strength when the rest of the world seemed to yield. Amidst the colors of spring and summer, we often overlook them as they vanish into the background. Yet, when come the harsh winter months, their colors persist, embodying a story that continues.
It's not surprising we're compelled to bring the essence of these evergreens into our homes each winter. Whether consciously or not, there's an enchantment to their presence that captivates us, and our desire to be close to them escalates as the splendor of summer wanes. We are drawn to things that have enduring qualities. Deep down, we know that some things remain that shape and form our truest selves and winter offers us a mirror to see just that.
The other day, a group of friends lounged around their Christmas tree. It was decorated with unique ornaments, some homemade, some bought and delicate. It reminded me of my tree growing up. My mother didn’t fuss with making our tree look a certain way. She never chose a color scheme nor did she invest in perfectly matching ornaments. It was a mod podge of memories, Sunday school crafts, and most of all, stories. When I first started cheerleading in high school, she bought me an ornament. When I brought home a poorly glittered pinecone from preschool, she proudly hung it on the tree. She was a woman who loved to make things beautiful but not in the way many of us think of beauty. For her, beauty was found in our family and our memories, and each time we opened our box of ornaments each year, it was as if we were opening our family history.
It's impossible for us to constantly recall everything that has occurred in our lives, let alone all at once. And yet, these stories shape us and we carry them in our subconscious all year long. These stories are the evergreens of our life, holding fast, not scared off by the winter chill. They stand against the harsh winds and make their presence known when all else has been stripped away. Our Christmas tree holds stories of joy and pain, and yet with gladness, still display our favorite ornaments; ornaments from our childhood and when we visited Prague for our final IVF treatment. We have disc golf ornaments and sash quashes (an inside joke), all against the backdrop of a resilient evergreen still holding onto her needles, happily drinking water in our warm home.
All that transpires in winter - the shadow work, attempts to rest, celebrate and find renewal seem to cumulate in this season. It’s as if winter wants to remind us who we truly are, telling our stories once again as if pulling a dusty book from the attic and cracking its seal. These traditions, woven and nuanced, born from soil and seeds draw us to wander. They remind us of what remains in us as we witness what holds steadfast through winter. Stories of what has been and hope of what could be are what permeate these dark days with a unique significance.
During the Winter Solstice season, nature seeks to reveal enduring truths, and draw life from them, like a hidden spring we forget we once stumbled upon. This season encourages us to embrace the chill, to peer into the depths of darkness, urging us to kindle fires and savor warm meals. It wants to carry our narratives through the awakening of Spring, jogging our memories about our identity and the strength we’ve nurtured in the roots we’ve tended. But it also wants to purge anything that obstructs our fidelity to our true selves. Winter is the soul’s mirror. The evergreens beautifully project our resilience as the dusty decorations display the roads we’ve traveled.
This season, if you haven't had the opportunity to explore a forest, I would encourage you to do so. Just this past weekend, I ventured into the woods while having a personal spiritual retreat at the Trappist Abbey near Portland. The Abbey's expansive grounds contain numerous hiking trails, and I spent a considerable amount of time wandering through nature. At first, it felt as if the landscape resembled a war zone, with fallen leaves scattered everywhere and bare branches dominating the scenery. And yet, I continued to stumble upon a family of deer foraging for food that seemed to add a touch of life to the desolate scene. Female deer, in particular, are significant symbols during Winter Solstice since they retain their antlers through the winter, unlike the male deer who shed their antlers in August. Tradition holds that before the myth of Santa, it was said that the Mother Deer was the one who soared through the sky on the solstice, carrying the sun between her antlers, assisting the rebirth of light for a new year. Take a moment to watch this beautiful video about the Mother Deer.
Antlers, evergreens, and ornaments all carry a story of resilience. They resemble what remains true through our seasons of winter and symbolize the vibrancy of life that sustains us. These ancient traditions may be lost to us and yet, they have snuck their way into our homes each year reminding us their spirit remains true even today.
May we press into all this season has to show us, letting it mirror back the resilience and strength we carry in our hearts.
Happy Winter Solstice, friends.
Beautiful piece, Merry Christmas!
Love the image of winter as a mirror, and the evergreens as resilient strength. And never knew about Mother Deer! I’m gonna watch that video... (maybe this is how the reindeer got into the current story..?)